SELF-MUTILATION

round 2
i enjoyed this
enjoyed me a taste for some flavor
a flavor
for some bravery
a way of approaching this
that i loved. it
changed my perspective
from introspective
to outrospective
my hands reached out
like trees growing in fast motion.

i don’t know where these
these yellow lines down
the middle of the road
lead me
but i know
i know i like where i’m going.
the ground is tall, the sky is
black, above my head.

i am a prisoner
of ecstasy,

you
you are a frustration
channeled through
a page
black blood
that drips through its gauze
and onto the other side
of reality

this.

this. freak show. this.
carnival ride. this
buy-one-get-one-half-off
coupon. this
is something
we created
for us.
it’s what time
has led us to, this
irreversible decision
of happiness based on
impulses of decades of young
idiots.

that’s what we are.

that’s what we’ve become maybe
always were, but god;
the light is shining out of us now

but i tell you.
these fucking weaklings
these
opportunists. these
people who make love
when it’s convenient.
these hard-working, employed
men
and women of the world.
why?

that’s it.

why?

why are you doing this
to yourselves?

READ “THE OBNOXIOUS SOUND OF MUSIC UPSTAIRS”

Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

9 thoughts on “SELF-MUTILATION”

    1. Thank you. It was an experiment. I recorded myself while I was driving and this is verbatim what I said. I highly suggest trying it. It keeps the poetry really raw.

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